The extra fabric digs into my skin as his large hand shoves me over the counter, my cheek almost connecting with the faucet. A rough kick to my booted foot widens my stance, putting the thin g-string barely covering my holes on full display.
Calloused palms pull my cheeks apart, digging into my flesh hard enough to bruise. He’s on the edge of sanity, that sweet spot where his brain flips from protector to predator, leaving me completely destroyed by the time he’s done.
“You’re lucky I’m light on lube, or I’d fuck this tight little hole instead.”
A finger traces under the string blocking his way, diving low enough to tease my pussy lips. The mewl that leaves my chest draws a chuckle from him, confirming how easy it is for him to read the way a simple touch spurs my body into heat.
The captivating drag of his fingers through my slick sex is all I can focus on. Back and forth, never pausing long enough to apply pressure at my aching entrance or pulsing clit. It’s painful. It’s euphoric. It’s driving me wild, and a plea for more is at the tip of my tongue.
“Do you hear how wet you are? How ready this pussy is for my fingers? For my fat cock? Are you desperate for it, mama?”
“Fuck, Vik. Yes. God, please fuck me.” It all tumbles from my lips, each syllable crashing against the next like the sea amid a winter storm.
This chuckle is louder, skittering around the room, canceling out the whomping in my ears. His fingers never retreat, but the jingle of his belt being undone is there outside my concentration.
“Eyes on me, mama,” he commands, and my body moves on instinct.
My vision sways, blurring slightly at the edges. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that last shot, because I have to squeeze my eyes shut to get rid of Vik’s double in the mirror.
The second my eyes spring back open, my thong’s pulled to the side, and he slams home, bottoming out inside me.
“Fuckkkk.” The scream rips from my throat at the fullness between my legs. It’s been too long. But my body, ever the eager slut ready to welcome him home, is primed and ready for him.
He’s relentless, pistoning his hips in a punishing pace that slams my hips against the counter. The crack of his palm against smooth flesh adds to the chorus of slapping skin.
“God, I fucking missed this pussy. You’re gripping me so tight, baby. Your pussy feels like fucking heaven.”
“Har… der,” I pant, hands shoving against the wall, giving me an anchor to push my hips back and meet him thrust for thrust.
“Mhmm,” he growls. “There she is.”
I give up any last remaining fight in my head and in my heart, letting this man have his way with me, because I need it. The pleasure, the reconnection, the closeness.
“Vik, please. Make me come. I need it.”
“You gonna coat my cock in your juices? Let me fill you with my cum until it’s dripping out of your stretched hole?”
“God, yes. Don’t stop.”
His hips slow, and I groan in frustration, trying to take over for the loss. I was so close. A few practiced swipes of his fingers against my clit, and I’d be over the edge. It’s enough to form tears along my lashes.
“I need something first.”
“Anything.” The hasty offer is out before I can think twice.
“No more space, baby. We’re going home. I want you in our bed. We’re done with the fucking bullshit of not talking.”
He’s completely stopped now, his cock pulled halfway out, just sitting there. It’s something, but not nearly enough. His free hand shoves against my lower back, halting my body from taking what I want on my own.
“Answer me.”
The slap against my ass that accompanies his demand stings, but focuses my mind.
“Fine.” I huff. Maybe I’ll regret it in the morning when the freshly fucked haze lifts and the alcohol leaves my body, but right now I mean it. “Now make me come.”
“With pleasure.”
And he does. My orgasm hits like an explosion of tiny needles inserted simultaneously across every inch of skin. Everything siezes, before I collapse against the counter, the energy completely wrung from my soul.
